Koudelka
by Emerald Princess of Vernea
Summary: A novelisation of the Koudelka video game by Sacnoth.
1. Prologue

_**DISCLAIMER**_

_Grace Barton does not own Koudelka and is not associated with it or its creators in any way. This is a novelisation of the game and Grace only lays claim to the written form and original scenes and dialogue that do not appear in the game. Everything else is copyrighted to Sacnoth, the creators of Koudelka._

* * *

**Koudelka**

**Grace Barton**

**Prologue**

Aberystwyth, Wales. October 31, 1898.

For Koudelka Iasant, the year 1898 held no special meaning. For many it was a year that would drift into the forgotten pages of history, except for those who had reason to note it.

In September, the Fashoda Incident would drive the United Kingdom and France to the brink of war over a dispute of territory in east Africa. That same year, the United Kingdom would conquer and burn down the Benin City in Nigeria. Across the sea, the Spanish-American war still raged, all amidst the Cuban War of Independence.

Yet events were about to unfold here on the wet and dreary shores of Wales. For many these events were insignificant; a tiny pebble on the river of time. But these events would mark the beginning of a long and desperate struggle for those who were yet to find their place in the world. And Koudelka was to be the key to that future; even she did not know it herself.

For now, while the rest of the world found itself on the brink of perpetual warfare, the sleepy Welsh country was unmarred by the passage of time. Even as industrialisation swept its way across the land, bringing the world to the modern age, the ancient Celtic land was almost untouched.

But Time was harsh. Not even Aberystwyth could withstand its unforgiving progression. The Cambrian Railway was one of many new railways being built across the landscape, joining Wales to its more industrialised neighbour to the east.

Koudelka was not travelling by train. Shunning the ever-growing popular method of travel, she chose to travel on horseback. She had bought her mare in an English town before crossing the border into Wales. Now she travelled the countryside, taking with her all the items the mare could carry.

She stayed away from the roads and kept to the countryside, avoiding roads and towns except when she needed to buy food. She bathed and watered her horse at rivers, ate sparingly, and rested very little except when her horse could go no further. She awoke at the break of dawn and kept on going until the sun's light disappeared over the horizon, sleeping beneath the stars. She rode through rain and sun, following the sun's light westward.

Travelling alone through the endless countryside, Koudelka had been filled with a sense of peace she had never felt at all in her young life. The land was so quiet and tranquil, filled only with the sounds of nature. It was soothing and at the same time disturbing, for whenever the land was silent the voice that called out to her became even stronger. The words called out to her soul as clear and piercing as the ringing of a bell. Whenever she heard it, she pushed her mare harder, hurrying onward.

At last she neared Aberystwyth. Instead of approaching the town, Koudelka turned her horse northward. She followed the shore, where the beach was bordered by tall, rising cliffs and the ocean lapped against rocky beaches, sending clouds of spray crashing into the walls.

Soon she was forced to turn back east, as the ground became too rough for the mare to travel. After travelling several miles it cleared, and Koudelka turned north again.

Now several weeks into her journey, Koudelka arrived at last at her destination. She led the mare up a sloping hill that overlooked the shore. Here she stopped, and her horse reared in protest. A chill wind blew around her, causing her clock to rustle about her, making her shiver.

Down in the valley there was a set of buildings. They stood perched against the cliffs, overlooking the rocky shore below. One look at the place and Koudelka felt another shiver run down her spine. This shiver was deeper than any the cold autumn wind could have produced, and chilled her very blood.

Closing her eyes, Koudelka sought out with her mind. It took her a few moments, but then she felt it. The voice had grown weaker in the passing days, and now it was little more than a passing whisper. But it _was_ still there, and it _was_ coming from the buildings in the valley. Koudelka opened her eyes again, and gazed down into the valley.

In the future, when the days were darker and the world was entering World War One, she would look back and remember this moment. Gazing down at the building where everything began and ended; the place that would decide the fate of the entire world.

The Nemeton Monastery.

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_**A Note from the Authoress**_

_Welcome one and all to my novelisation of Koudelka. This one is very different from my other novelisations because I'm not using the original game script. Well, I am using it, but for research and storyline purposes only. This one and my novelisation of Shadow Hearts are my experiments for writing without game scripts, to see if I can grab characterisation just through research instead of using the script to ensure I don't go off-tack. I hope you enjoy it!_


	2. Chapter 1

**Koudelka**

**Grace Barton**

**Chapter One**

A loud boom echoed throughout the monastery. Koudelka, holding the doorknocker, rang again. The sound of her knocking echoed throughout the building. It returned to her without reply, and no one came to answer the door.

Letting go of the knocker, Koudelka took a step back and looked up at the building. It was so quiet. There was no sign of life anywhere, not even a flicker of light in the windows. Everywhere was dark and lifeless.

But there was life in the building. Koudelka could sense it. There were people living in the building, though why they did not answer her calls, she did not know.

Life was not the only thing she sensed. She could also sense death, and a great evil. There was evil brewing inside the building, so thick it was almost tangible. Koudelka was not surprised. Despite being buildings dedicated wholly to the Church and the Christian faith, the monasteries were breeding places for corruption and malevolence. Some of the cruellest atrocities were committed in places of worship, and they would continue to do so, she had no doubt.

Since she had gotten no answer to her calls, Koudelka left the door and returned to her horse. She looked up at the building again, with its rising high walls. She pursed her lips, frowning. She would have to find some other way into the building, then.

Taking the horse's reins, she led the mare around the side of the building. A raven began to caw, breaking the night's silence. The sound unsettled the mare, who whinnied and tugged at the rains. Koudelka stopped for a moment to calm it down before continuing on.

She walked around until she came to the side of the building. The windows here were dark as well, and she noticed that there were bars over the glass. The glass was so thick with dirt and dust that it was impossible to see inside, so she didn't try.

As she came by one of the windows, she was surprised to find that there were bags gathered by it. Leaving her horse for a moment, Koudelka knelt down.

"What's this…?" she wondered.

She made a quick search of the bags. There was nothing of interest: a tent, items for a campfire, some clothing, and a few bits of leftover food. There was nothing of use she could take, so she left the bags alone and turned to leave.

Then something else caught her eye. Turning back, she looked up at the wall. There was a rope dangling here, swaying gently in the night's breeze. Koudelka raised her gaze to the roof, where the rope was hanging over the side. _So there is someone else here,_ she thought. Almost instinctively she reached her hand into her pouch and felt for her dagger. Her fingers brushed the hilt and she brought it up towards the top, ready to be drawn if she needed it.

With her knife secure, Koudelka untied her cloak. She pushed back the hood, letting it fall against her shoulders. She shook out her brown hair, tied into a ponytail.

Leaving her mare tethered to the bags on the ground, Koudelka began to climb the rope. It was secure; hooked onto one of the sharp spires on the rooftop. When she reached the top, Koudelka grabbed onto that spire and pulled herself onto the roof. After a brief look around, she swung her legs over and sat, peering down.

Once she looked inside the perimeter, Koudelka knew she was wrong. This could not be a monastery. It looked more like an abandoned village. There was a church, of course, but what village did not have a church? All the houses were dark and empty, seemingly devoid of all life. The dark clouds hanging low in the sky cast even darker shadows onto the place, and Koudelka had the distinct impression that the area was being swallowed up in darkness. Realising that thought, she shook her head.

She looked around her. The voice that had brought her here was to be found somewhere in this place. Somehow, she needed to get inside.

With that thought in mind, Koudelka stood up. Using the roof spires as handholds, she made her way along the roof, all the while looking about for a way to get inside. She reached one of the chimneys and grasped onto the brickwork, pulling herself along.

When she left the chimney and grabbed the next spire, it jerked and pulled away. Koudelka let out a cry as she slipped down the roof. She hit the roof of one of the windows and grabbed onto the tiles, saving herself from falling. She then leaned back as the spire fell past her, scraping across her shoulders. The sharp prongs cut through the rope of her pendant, sending the item hurtling towards the ground.

Koudelka grasped her neck. Her pendant was her charm, which she used to protect herself against the great evils of the world. Without it, she was vulnerable. Still, she thought as she released her neck, there was no use crying about it now.

The near-fall had also dealt her a lucky blow. She had stopped right by one of the windows, which meant that now she had a way to get in. The glass panes had fallen out long ago, so Koudelka kicked straight through the frame and climbed inside. There was no ledge there, so Koudelka leapt onto the rafters and then dropped down onto the floor.

The room she had landed in appeared to be barren. The air was thick with dust and a heavy, musky scent that made Koudelka's nose wrinkle in disgust. There were several old crates and tables too; some were stacked neatly, while others appeared to have been thrown carelessly about the room and lay in broken piles.

Koudelka would have thought a little further about this, had she not then noticed the fireplace. The fire was lit, and there were fresh, albeit old, logs burning. The fire did little to take the chill off the room, but it was a welcome change from the cold outside. Seeing that fire made Koudelka realise something else: _Someone else has been here. The mysterious owner of the bags, perhaps?_

Her eyes then fell on the door. Or, more specifically, to a young man who was lying slumped against it.

It did not take a genius to tell that he had been in a fight. His body was beaten and bloody, and his clothes were torn in places. He had several cuts to his face, including a gash just above his right eye that left a trail of blood across his cheek. Even in the firelight, Koudelka could see that his skin was pale with fever and had the signs of someone with severe dehydration: cracked, dry lips, weakness of the limbs, and chills. He was near death.

Now, Koudelka was not a very compassionate woman. In fact, she had learnt early on in life that you had to be strong in order to survive in this world. Even a person on the verge of death can be a deadly enemy if you let them get close enough. So even though this man appeared to be so physically weak he could barely move anymore, she did not lower her guard. Reaching into her pouch, she drew her knife. Clasping it behind her, she approached him with caution.

Hearing her footsteps, the man opened his eyes and raised his head to look at her. Koudelka froze, startled. The man had blue eyes that stared at her so intensely that for a moment she was taken aback. Then she recovered and pursed her lips together, staring back at him coldly.

The man stared at her for a second or two, before he cussed and turned his head away. "Check your wristwatch, Angel. I'm not dead yet."

"Not yet," Koudelka replied, "but from the looks of you, it's not going to be long." She gripped her knife handle tighter.

"True," the man confessed. He raised his head again. "However, I have some unfinished business to attend to first, so you're just going to have to wait a little longer, okay?"

Koudelka tilted her head. She looked down at his hand, which held a small pistol. The man was so weak that his hand shook as he tried to lift it. Somehow he managed it, and he raised the gun towards her. Seeing his sloppy, shaky aim, Koudelka let out a curt laugh.

"Please, you would not be able to shoot anything in your state," she mocked. "Weak as you are, you won't even live long enough to pull the trigger. Why don't you just give up and die?"

"Can't do that," the man answered, and his gaze shifted away from her. "Not until I've killed that thing. Two or three shots ought to do it."

Koudelka was about to ask him 'Kill what?' when she heard a faint sound coming from behind her. It was the sound of footsteps, along with a swishing sound she couldn't identify. A puff of warm breath touched her shoulder. Gripping her knife, Koudelka turned her head.

It was a werewolf. But unlike those described in fairy tales, this one was almost seven feet tall with a lanky body covered in thin grey-brown fur. The creature must have been half-starved and had gone mad with hunger. Its long arms dangled at its sides, tipped with jagged claws it had broken in its fight with the man.

But it was its face that frightened Koudelka the most. Its eyes were large and bulging out of their sockets, the whites coloured a sickly yellow. Tiny black pupils glared at Koudelka with such hunger and rage that she could not believe this monster may once have been human. The werewolf roared, and Koudelka saw a row of wide, flat teeth that were yellowed and stained. A pungent, foul stench—its breath—wafted into her face.

Startled by the werewolf's appearance, Koudelka let out a gasp. Acting on instinct alone, she turned and thrust her dagger into its gut. The werewolf roared in pain and stepped back, yanking the dagger out of her hand. The monster then swung a hand and knocked Koudelka off her feet, sending her sliding across the floor.

The werewolf looked down at the knife still embedded in its gut. It yanked the blade out, sniffed its blood, and then threw the blade onto the ground. The monster turned towards Koudelka, who was just getting onto her feet.

The beast jumped onto a nearby table and scrabbled over to her. Koudelka looked up in time to see it swipe its hand, and she ducked again. She crawled under the table, crying out as the monster ducked over the side and tried to claw at her. Eventually she came out from under the table and made a dash across the room.

The werewolf was faster. It leapt off the table and landed in front of her. This time Koudelka did not have time to react as it swung at her and dealt a blow across her torso. Again Koudelka was thrown from her feet. She staggered, lost her balance and fell against a wooden bar near to the fireplace. She fell back and banged her head against the frame, knocking her out.

Smelling fresh blood, the werewolf began to walk towards her. It then halted as a gunshot fired past its face and struck the wall. The monster turned as the man cocked his pistol and took another shot, but in his weakened state his aim slipped and he missed again. The werewolf let out a growl and then turned its back on him, returning its attention to Koudelka. Its thick tongue licked its teeth, and it resumed walking towards her.

Knowing he did not have the strength left for a third shot, the man shouted out to Koudelka. "Hey, hey, lady!" he called. "Take my gun and shoot it!"

With the last of his strength, he threw the gun. His aim was not perfect, but when it landed it skidded across the ground to where Koudelka lay.

Koudelka could hear the werewolf approaching. When she opened her eyes she saw it drawing closer; it was almost by the bar she had crashed through. She also saw the gun, lying just within reach. Stretching out her hand, she reached for it. As her fingers closed around the weapon, her head cleared. Forcing herself to sit up, Koudelka raised the gun and shot at the monster.

As the bullet struck home, the werewolf roared in agony. It clutched its wounded gut as more blood poured from its wound. The yellow eyes bulged and glared at Koudelka. The monster snarled and then leapt at her.

Leaning back against the fireplace, Koudelka fired two more shots. The first hit the monster's torso, and the second went right into its skull. The monster landed in front of her, and Koudelka had to scrabble out of the way before it slumped forward, facedown into the fire. The flames swept over its face and the monster, still alive, pulled itself out of the fire.

With its dying throes, the monster shrieked. It was the most terrifying sound Koudelka had ever heard: the cries of a dying beast. To put it out of its misery, Koudelka fired two more shots into its head. The werewolf let out one final gurgle and then fell still, even as the flames on its body flickered and died out.

Koudelka lowered the gun. Letting out a shaky breath, she sank to her knees in relief. She had been lucky. Werewolves were dangerous creatures. This one was half-starved and weakened, acting on desperation and self-preservation. If she had fought it at its full strength, she would have been killed quite easily.

Once she had recovered her nerves, Koudelka pushed herself to her feet again. She looked over at the young man, who was now slumped against the doorway with no signs of life. Koudelka was partially relieved, for if he was dead that meant she no longer owed him a favour for saving her life. Still, it was best to make sure that he was dead before she left him behind.

She knelt beside him and checked for a pulse. It was still there, albeit weak. The exertion of trying to fight and then throwing her gun had weakened him almost to the point of death._ Pity,_ Koudelka thought.

She stood up and folded her arms, thinking about what she should do. If she were merciful, she would kill him now and end his suffering. That was, if she was merciful. Koudelka was not completely without feeling, but she also held very little regard for the other humans of this world. This man's death would mean nothing to her.

Eventually deciding that letting the man die on his own was a better choice, Koudelka started to turn away. As she did, the man opened his eyes and raised his head.

"What about him?" he asked, his voice low.

Koudelka looked at him, and then over at the body of the werewolf. "He's dead," she replied, turning back to him.

She threw the pistol into his lap. The man picked it up and held it in his hands. His fingers caressed the barrel.

"I see," he said. He cocked the gun and pulled the trigger. It let out an empty _click_—the gun was empty. "You know, this baby's been mine ever since I was a teenager. Probably the only thing my father ever gave me." His face grew melancholy, and he looked up at Koudelka. "Hey, Angel, I won't ask that you take me to Heaven or anything, but could you offer me a prayer? You know, to see me on my way?"

Koudelka almost scoffed. "Are you out of your mind!?" she demanded. "There is no bloody way I am going to _pray_ for you." Then she sighed and put her hand on her hip. "I won't pray for you," she said, "but there is one thing I can do for you."

The man stared at her as she knelt down beside him.

"Think of this as payback for saving me back there," Koudelka told him.

She closed her eyes. Raising her arms, she held them out in front of her. Then she drew her hands towards her and curved them up to bring them down again in a sweeping gesture. Once in a rhythm, Koudelka began to chant in a whispery voice.

The man stared at her, wondering what she was up to. Then he winced as he felt a twinge in his body. It happened again, and then again, in time with Koudelka's sweeping gestures. Soon all the wounds in his body were tingling. His skin grew hot, and he felt as though he was burning up.

"Argh!" he cried, clutching his gut.

"Shut up," Koudelka snapped in-between chants.

She carried on. As she continued, the wounds on the man's flesh began to heal. Fresh skin knitted over the wounds, healing them as though they had never been there. Even the blood on the man's face dried up until there was not a spot left.

Once all the wounds were healed, Koudelka broke herself from her trance. She slumped forward, catching herself just in time. She panted, and sweat trickled down her brow. Healing his wounds was harder than she had anticipated.

"Okay," she said, once she had caught her breath. "You're fine now. Get up and let's go." She stood and started to walk away. Then, realising that the man had not moved, she looked back. "Didn't you hear me? I said, get up!"

But the man did not move. He was staring at his hands and patting at his clothing, making sure that he was not in fact dreaming.

"How—how did you do that?" he asked her. "I was almost dead, but now there's not a mark on me. What did you do to me?"

"Oh, get over yourself," Koudelka sighed. "I just cured you, that's all."

"Cured me?" the man repeated. He blinked and shook his head. "But, I was almost dead. So, are you really an angel, after all?"

"Of course not," snapped Koudelka, losing patience. "There are no angels on this earth. And if there were, they wouldn't waste their time healing the likes of you. I'm just a medium with healing powers. If you prefer," she added, seeing the man staring at his hands again, "I have spells that can restore the damage."

The man shook his head. "No, no, this is fine! Thank you!" he said. He took one last look at his hands and then, seeing Koudelka's glare, thrust his hands behind him. "I'm Edward, Edward J. Plunkett."

"Oh, really…?" Koudelka asked, uninterested. "And tell me, Mr Plunkett, just what is a shady person like you doing in a place like this?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Edward responded, looking hurt. "Besides, I'm not as shady as you think."

"Good for you," said Koudelka. "So why _are_ you here?"

"I heard a rumour."

"A rumour?"

Edward nodded. "The rumour went that some rich guy had bought an old monastery in Wales and spent a ton of money converting it into a house. It was also said that he brought a lot of harlots with him from London. It apparently caused quite a stir with the Church!"

Koudelka folded her arms. "How fascinating," she remarked. "So, where is this monastery?"

"Beats me," said Edward with a shrug. "When I got here, no one would answer the door so I had to make my own way in. Then, as soon as I got in, that thing attacked me! I've been stuck here ever since, trying to keep it from eating me. I'm telling you, lady, if you hadn't shown up when you did, it would be chewing on my leg right about now."

He looked up at Koudelka, only to find that she was no longer listening. She had turned away from him and was muttering to herself.

"Hey, hey!" he said, trying to grab her attention. "Aren't you listening to me? Hey, lady!"

Koudelka snapped around. "Stop talking!" she ordered, and her gaze was so fierce that Edward did stop. "If you call me 'lady' one more time, you will wish I had killed you instead. For the record, my name is Koudelka Iasant. And I will only tell you my name once, so do not forget it. Understand?"

Edward gave a slight nod. Koudelka sighed. She was also regretting her decision of saving this man's life. Still, it was done with now.

"Okay," she said at last. "Here's the deal. If you want to get out of this place in one piece, I advise that you stick very close to me. Got it?"

She held out her hand. Edward glanced at it. Then he took it, and Koudelka pulled him to his feet. He held her hand a moment longer, giving her a nod.

"A pleasure to meet you, Koudelka."


	3. Chapter 2

**Koudelka**

**Grace Barton**

**Chapter Two**

Koudelka and Edward made their way through the corridors of the house. The room they had been in was merely one of many such abandoned rooms they encountered, and each one they found was as cold and dark as the rest.

There were no more werewolves, much to their relief. Yet Edward was sure they were not entirely alone. Every so often he saw, or thought he saw, the shadows of large insects scuttling about in corners, and he heard, or thought he heard, suspicious bangs and chuckles coming from the shadows.

Koudelka did not seem concerned by the scuttling or the banging. In fact she seemed not to be concerned about anything. She spoke very little and did not look at him when she did. Still, Edward did his best to make conversation, for the unearthly silence that pressed down on the building was too much to bear.

"So, Koudelka," he said, as they walked along a creaking corridor. "What brings you to this bright and cheery place?" Seeing that he got no answer from her, he carried on. "'Cause, you know, I'd expect to find a lady in a more pleasant place than this. Though I do have to admit, the creepy atmosphere is kind of suited to, well…"

"A witch?" said Koudelka. She did not attempt to hide the anger from her voice.

Edward sensed the anger too and scratched his head. "Well, I wasn't going to put it quite like that."

He felt Koudelka's eyes on him. Her gaze was cold and piercing, as though she was looking right through his skin and into his soul. At first he considered looking away, but then he raised his eyes and met her gaze. Koudelka's brow rose, and she gave a small smile of approval before turning away.

_Guess that's as close to a smile as I'm going to get,_ Edward thought. _She is cute when she smiles, though._

They headed on, wandering through the upper levels of the house. The scuttling noises continued, and Edward did his best to block out the sounds.

They reached a set of stairs and began to descend to the lower floor. Koudelka walked with confidence, but Edward winced as each stair creaked and groaned under his weight. These stairs were so old, so rotten, he had the horrific vision that they were going to break under his weight and he would plunge straight down into a deep, unending darkness.

_This place is getting to me,_ he told himself.

After reaching the end of the stairs, Koudelka suddenly came to a stop. Edward started to speak, but she silenced him with a glare. The medium put her finger to her lips and then to her ear. Understanding that she meant for him to be quiet and listen, he did as she asked. At first he heard nothing, but then he did, and he suddenly understood the reason why she had stopped.

"Voices…" he whispered, and then braced himself as he expected her to turn and order him to be silent.

But Koudelka was not paying attention to him. Her gaze was fixed on a door at the other end of the corridor. The voices she heard were coming from the other side, though they were too muffled for her to understand. There was more than one voice—one belonged to a man, and another to a woman. She was also sure that they were the living voices, which meant that there were other people in the house besides themselves.

She approached the door, taking careful, slow steps. She could hear Edward shuffling loudly behind her, but at least he now had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

Koudelka stopped close to the door. The voices were louder now, and she guessed that there were only two people on the other side. Unbuttoning her pouch, she reached inside and drew her knife.

Catching the glint of the blade in the candlelight, Edward grabbed hold of her arm. "What do you think you're doing!?" he demanded.

Koudelka spun around. "Keep your voice down!" she hissed. She tried to wrench her arm away, but Edward refused to let go.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked. He snatched the knife from her hand. "Is it always your greeting to draw weapons?"

"Let go of me, Edward," said Koudelka. Her eyes narrowed. "I'm warning you," she added.

She raised her other hand. At first Edward thought she meant to strike him, and was amused at the thought. Then her fingertips began to glow with a gentle red light—a light that was reflected in her eyes. She was not going to slap him. She was going to use her magic to make him let go.

"Is someone out there?"

At once the fire-glow vanished from Koudelka's fingers. Thrusting her hands behind her, she turned to face the voice. Edward reacted a second after her, hiding the knife behind his back.

Standing in the doorway was an elderly woman. She must have been about seventy or eighty. She was dressed in plain, drab clothing and had a blood-red shawl tied around her head, hiding her grey hair. Her face was weathered and filled with wrinkles, and her blue eyes seemed to have dulled with age. Those eyes widened in surprise as she stared at the two people standing in the corridor.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "Who are you?"

Edward started to speak, but Koudelka cut him off. "We're travellers," she said. "We got lost and found our way here. I hope you don't mind but the gates were locked so we let ourselves in."

"Don't worry—we're not thieves or anything," Edward added. He then winced as Koudelka pressed her heel on his toe. He fell silent, staring at her.

"He's right, we _aren't_ thieves," Koudelka repeated. "We just wanted to have some shelter for the night. Would that be all right?"

A look of suspicion crossed the old lady's features. Then her mouth split into a wide smile as she said: "Of course. My husband and I were just about to have supper. Why don't you join us?"

"Sure!" said Edward, brushing past Koudelka and taking the old woman's hand. "That would be great, thank you!"

The woman smiled back at him. "Then do come in," she said. "My name is Bessie."

"Edward. Edward J Plunkett."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr Plunkett," said Bessie, shaking his hand. She then looked over at Koudelka. "And your name, dear?"

Koudelka opened her mouth to reply, but then she hesitated, wondering if she should give out her real name.

Unfortunately, Edward made the decision from her. "Oh, she's Koudelka. She's a medium. She's a little rough around the edges but she's all right."

Behind him, Koudelka glared._ Are you always so trusting!?_

Bessie's eyes, already wide, widened further. "A medium, you say? Oh, you poor dear. It must be hard for you."

There was pity now in her eyes. Koudelka folded her arms. The old woman seemed to think that she had some kind of disease or something. Still, it was better than being treated with fear or hate, as was the usual treatment for mediums and witches.

_Everyone fears what they do not know or understand._ It was an old saying, but an apt one. Koudelka's powers had been the source of much fear and had, as the old lady pointed out, brought much pain and hardship. The days of the Witch Trials were over, but the prejudice against mediums remained. It was for this reason that Koudelka avoided human company whenever possible, preferring to travel on her own.

She was broken from her thoughts when Bessie ushered her and Edward into the room. Here she was introduced to Ogden Hartman, Bessie's husband. He was a queer old fellow, his face drawn and haggard as though he had gone too many nights without sleep. A friendly smile spread on his face as he was introduced to Koudelka and Edward, repeating his wife's offer that they join the couple for supper. Koudelka returned the smile as she shook the old man's hand, noting how his palm was sweating.

At Bessie's urging, the pair took their seats at an old wooden table. Ogden sat down with them, while Bessie busied herself at a pot over the cooking fire.

"So, you two are travellers, eh?" Ogden asked. He picked up an old wooden pipe and began stuffing it with tobacco. "Where are you heading to? Aberystwyth?"

"Yes, actually," Koudelka lied, remembering the town she had passed on her journey. "Is it much farther from here?"

"Oh, not much farther. Perhaps a day if you've got a good horse." Ogden lit his pipe and took a long puff on it. The warm glow of the burning tobacco cast an orange glow on his face as he smiled, giving it a warm yet ethereal look.

Looking into his face, Koudelka's eyes narrowed._ I don't like that smile…_

"What about, uh, an average horse?" asked Edward.

"Oh, well, that would take a little longer, but no more than two days."

"Really? Thank goodness for that!"

While Ogden began giving Edward directions to Aberystwyth, Koudelka let her eyes stray over to Bessie. The old woman was stirring the contents of the pot with a ladle. Koudelka watched as she plucked a few leaves from a nearby plant, scrunched them in her hands and dropped them into the pot. After a few stirs with the ladle, she took the cooking pot from the fire and poured the contents into two waiting bowls. These she brought over to the table, setting one down in front of Edward, and the other in front of Koudelka.

"Here we are," she said, still smiling. "Potato soup. I'm sorry I couldn't make up anything fancier but we haven't had any traders pass by in weeks. Soup is about all we can manage at the moment."

"Oh, soup is just fine!" said Edward, his eyes lingering on the bowl. Putting his face near the bowl, he sniffed. "It smells delicious!"

Bessie laughed. "Well, why don't you tuck in and see how it tastes?"

"Don't mind if I do!"

He took a spoonful of the steaming liquid and popped it into his mouth. Koudelka watched him, her eyes narrow. Edward paused, letting the liquid swill around his mouth for a second or two, before he gulped it down. His eyes lit up in satisfaction. "It's delicious!" he declared. Taking up another spoonful, he ate it eagerly.

Bessie seemed pleased. Her old face creased as she smiled at him. That smile then faded as she looked down at Koudelka, who had not touched her bowl.

"What's the matter, dear?" she asked. "Do you not like potato soup?"

"It's not that," replied Koudelka. "It's just… I ate before coming in, so I'm still not hungry. Thank you, though."

Bessie nodded, but Koudelka saw a fleeting look of concern pass over her face. She glanced over at her husband, who shrugged and began to light his pipe. Bessie's face also relaxed as she smiled again at Koudelka.

"Well, if you're sure, dear," she said. "Do let me know if you change your mind. There is plenty and I can always heat it up for you." She was about to take the bowl away when Edward, who had already reached the bottom of his bowl, reached out his hand.

"Hey, I'll take it if she doesn't want it!"

As Bessie handed him the bowl, Edward pushed his empty one aside and began to eat. Koudelka could not keep her nose from wrinkling as he stuffed the food down. He had little manners or decorum, and ate as though his life depended on it. Thinking that, Koudelka resisted a smile. He would regret eating that much, sooner rather than later.

"Well, now," said Bessie, taking the seat next to Koudelka. "You're heading to Aberystwyth, are you?"

Edward tried to speak, but his mouth was too stuffed full of food to answer. Koudelka sighed.

"That's right," she answered.

"Travelling together?"

"No. We just happened to meet whilst travelling the same way."

Ogden lit his pipe. "Isn't it unusual for a young woman to be travelling the country alone?" he asked. He blew a few puffs into the pipe, and the scent of tobacco smoke filled the air. Koudelka wrinkled her nose again.

"I'm hardly what you call 'usual'," she confessed. There wasn't much point in denying her 'unusualness'.

"She's a medium, dear," Bessie informed him.

"Ah." For a moment Koudelka thought she saw Ogden's eyes narrow. His mouth moved into what she thought was the word 'witch'. He said nothing, however, and when he caught her gaze he gave her a warm smile.

"Well, anyway," Bessie continued, as though nothing had happened, "it's nice to have visitors. Ogden and I rarely ever see any visitors here, so it's nice to see some faces now and again. Especially young people. We get so few of them around these parts."

Edward looked up from his bowl, surprised. "What? You mean, you two live here all alone?"

"Of course," replied Ogden, a bit huffy. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," Edward put down his spoon, "it's just that this building looked so big from the outside. I thought it was a town. It seems kind of odd that you two would be the only ones who live here."

Ogden let out a laugh. "My, you are a sharp one, aren't you?" He puffed on his pipe and then leant forward. "You are right, of course," he confessed. "This here building used to be part of the Nemeton Monastery. It was built in the 9th Century as a place of worship by an Irish saint called Daniel Scotius. He sanctified this place and all the land around it."

"Why did he do that?" asked Edward, intrigued.

Ogden gave him a grin. His teeth were yellowed, and more than one was missing. "To appease evil spirits," he said. Then, with a look at Koudelka, he added: "And monsters."

Koudelka's eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to speak, but Edward cut in over her. "Monsters!?" he exclaimed.

"What about them?" Ogden asked.

A sharp pain in his thigh from Koudelka's boot told Edward to be silent, but the young man continued anyway. "We saw a monster on our way here!" he said. "It was, like, a werewolf or something! I thought things like that only existed in books."

Once again, Ogden and Bessie exchanged looks. "So, you've seen it as well," Ogden mumbled. "I thought it had gone."

"What?" Edward blinked in surprise. "You mean you already know about it?"

"Of course," replied the old man. He took another deep puff of his pipe, and smoke curled around his face. "Bessie and I have lived in this monastery for a number of years. Its caretakers, as it were. There's little that doesn't go on that we don't know about.

"It was about six months ago it started," he continued, leaning back in his chair. "First it was the noise. We heard strange noises coming from deep within the monastery. At first we put it down to the wind howling. This place is old, and there are plenty of places where the wind and rain get in. Then we began to hear creaking and shuffling from down below, and then above us. It was as though creatures were moving about. Then Bessie saw one of them."

"I thought it was a cockroach at first," Bessie cut in. "It looked like one, anyway. Except it was much larger than any insect I'd ever seen. It was… it was a monster."

Ogden nodded his head and then carried on. "Since then, we've seen several of them scuttling around the place. They've left us alone for the most part, but they've been getting bigger and more daring. Then the howling started again. It was the howling of beasts—beasts in pain or in anguish. When we look out the windows at night we see shadows moving about the courtyard."

"It's absolutely terrifying," said Bessie. "We can barely sleep at night sometimes. I keep feeling I'll wake up to find one of them leering down at me, about to tear our throats out!"

"Nonsense!" scoffed Ogden. "Those monsters don't scare me. I was a sailor! If they try and attack me I'll shoot them down like dogs!"

"Oh, Ogden, dear! Don't say such things!" Bessie looked aghast. "You're not as young as you used to be. What if something happened to you? I don't know what I would do!"

Her husband grunted and resumed smoking his pipe. Watching them, Koudelka frowned. Though their affection and concern for each other was genuine, something about them seemed… off.

"So, you knew about the monster already," she said in a soft voice, "and yet you did nothing?"

"What could we do?" Ogden answered. "We're old. Even the nearest town is more than a day's ride away. If I were to go off for help, I'd be leaving Bessie here all on her own. And if life's taught me one thing it's _never_ to leave those you love alone. If it wasn't monsters, it could be thieves. I won't let them get their hands on my Bessie! Never!"

He spoke with such a passion that it took Koudelka by surprise. Even Edward was taken aback. He looked over at Koudelka, but her gaze was distant, lost in some thought.

"Anyway," said Bessie, rubbing her hands. "Let's not talk of monsters at the table. Would you like any more, dear?" she asked Edward.

The man looked down at his bowl, which was now empty. Though his stomach still growled, the look in Koudelka's eyes made him turn down the offer of a third helping. Bessie did not seem to mind and took his bowl away, and he watched in dismay as she poured the remainder of the soup down the sink.

After that the conversation turned to lighter things. Koudelka asked about the old couple's history, and Bessie explained how they had met in their youth, married and came to the Nemeton Monastery. When Koudelka tried to ask more about the monastery and its history she began to get evasive, turning the subject to more mundane topics. Koudelka did not fight her attempts, though her eyes continued to watch the old woman with great curiosity.

She let her eyes flick to Edward. He and the old man seemed to have struck quite a rapport. Ogden was regaling Edward with a tale from his sailing days; a boring tale by Koudelka's standards, though Edward seemed enraptured. When Ogden told him how he had once taken down a monstrous sea creature (a fairy tale, as Bessie joked) Edward's eyes lit up in astonishment. In turn he told Ogden and Bessie about their encounter with the werewolf, and how Koudelka had defeated it. Bessie gasped and praised Koudelka for her bravery, but Ogden remained silent, puffing away on his pipe.

"So, you've run out of bullets," he observed. "You won't get far without ammunition. Very well, I'll spare you some bullets."

"Are you sure, Ogden?" asked Edward. "Won't you need them?"

Ogden got out of his chair, his bones creaking. "Oh, don't you fear," he said with a laugh. "I've got plenty of bullets to spare. This monastery may be run down now, but it's got plenty of materials. And if they can be of some use to others, then it's worth the sacrifice."

"That's my Ogden," said Bessie. She dabbed her eyes with her apron. "He's so thoughtful like that."

Going over to a drawer, Ogden began to rummage through the contents. He gave a cry of satisfaction and then returned, carrying several boxes of bullets. "Here you are," he said, handing them to Edward.

"Thanks a lot, Ogden," said Edward, taking the bullets. "I owe you one."


	4. Chapter 3

**Koudelka**

**Grace Barton**

**Chapter Three**

The rest of the meal passed in relative peace. At Bessie's prompting, Ogden told them stories of his days as a sailor. He had always wanted to be at sea, he told them, and was at his happiest when he was by the ocean. His grey eyes seemed to glaze over as he talked. Edward was enraptured by his tales, and even Koudelka found herself being drawn in. At various points Bessie tried to prompt Koudelka into eating, but the young woman maintained that she was not hungry, and Bessie left her in peace.

When at last the food was gone and Ogden's pipe was empty, Koudelka announced that they should be heading on. She wondered if she imagined the look of relief that crossed the old couple's faces, or the haste in which they ushered her and Edward from their rooms. After their initial welcoming, she found it strange that they seemed so eager to see them leave now. She did not voice her concerns, though, and kept them to herself.

"What a sweet, old couple," Edward remarked, rubbing his chin.

Koudelka gave a grunt. Turning on her heel, she stalked off down the corridor.

"Hey! Koudelka!" Edward ran to catch up with her. "Where are you going? I—"

"Quiet!" Koudelka snapped.

Edward fell quiet at once. Koudelka walked a few more paces and then stopped suddenly, causing Edward to almost walk into her. She ignored him and put her hands on her hips. Then she reached into her pack and drew out her knife. She twirled the handle between her fingers, closing her eyes and succumbing to the gentle rhythm of the wooden handle sliding over her skin. Once she heard Edward (meekly) say her name, but she blotted him out.

_That couple…_ she thought. _Something's just not right about them._

"Uh… Koudelka?"

Koudelka spun around so fast that Edward stepped back in alarm. He raised his arms to defend himself, and Koudelka remembered that she was still holding her knife. Sighing, she relaxed and slid the knife back into her pack.

"Sorry," she said. She turned away. "Let's go on."

With that, she began to walk. Edward scratched his head, not sure what was going on. "Uh… okay," he said, and he began to follow her.

The halls were quiet. The scuttling that they had heard before had gone now, so Edward hoped that whatever insects were crawling around had gone to bed for the night.

He stayed close to Koudelka as she traversed the empty hallways. He noticed that she kept panning her gaze around at the walls, peering into corners. When he caught sight of her face, he saw that her gaze appeared distracted.

"Something on your mind?" he asked her.

Koudelka stopped and turned. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes so piercing they left him a little breathless. _She's very beautiful,_ he found himself thinking. _I wish I could see her face when she smiles. I bet _that's_ something to see._

He did not dare to say this aloud, however. Somehow he did not think Koudelka was the type to take a compliment kindly. And with that magic of hers, he did not like to think what she might do to him if she objected.

Luckily, Koudelka did not say anything. She just looked at him for a moment, and then turned and walked away. As dots began to dance in front of his eyes, Edward realised that he had been holding his breath. He took in a deep (but quiet) breath, and then followed the witch down the corridor.

There was another door at the end of the corridor. Koudelka tested the handle; it was unlocked. She pushed it open and the fragrant smell of food, both fresh and old, wafted through the opening. Edward smelt it as well, and his mouth began to water.

They entered the room, which turned out to be a kitchen. Here was the source of the smell, as shelves containing jars and pots and racks holding wine lined up against the walls. A small cooking fire burned in a corner, but there were no pots of food bubbling over it. The air was dank and somewhat stale, but there was a fresh breeze blowing in from somewhere.

Putting her hands on her hips, Koudelka took in the sights around her. Edward, however, headed straight for the nearest table.

"Now that's more like it!" he exclaimed as he rubbed his hands together. He began to sift through the collection of breads and cheeses left out on the table.

"I can't believe that you are still hungry after eating all of that," Koudelka remarked, coming to stand beside him.

Edward, who was in the process of tearing off bits of mould from the bread, stopped and looked up at her. "I was stuck in that room for three days without food or water with a monster who would quite happily have killed me to satisfy its own appetite. So excuse me if I'm still a little hungry!"

Koudelka folded her arms. "Three days, huh?" She shook her head. "Frankly, I'm amazed you lasted that long."

"I'm a bit amazed myself," replied Edward, a little bit smug. Tearing off a piece of non-mouldy bread, he stuffed it into his mouth and chewed. "Speaking of which," he added, his mouth still full. "Why didn't you eat anything? You wasted all that food."

"Hmm," Koudelka agreed. She walked over to the shelves and ran her fingers across them. "If it weren't poisoned, then maybe I would have had some." She looked at her fingers. They were black.

Edward choked in mid-swallow. After patting his chest to clear the blockage, he moved over to Koudelka. "What did you just say?"

A smile crossed Koudelka's face. She turned to face him, gazing up at him with steely eyes as she repeated: "If the soup weren't poisoned, then _maybe_ I would have had some." She tilted her head. "Got it now, Mr Plunkett?"

Edward's face paled. He looked down at the bread he was holding as though it now had something horrible and nasty on it.

"Poisoned?" he breathed, his voice barely audible. "You… You serious?"

Koudelka nodded. "Only a little bit," she said, rubbing the black dust between her fingers. "Our gracious hostess took a few leaves from a poisonous plant and mixed them into the soup. She probably assumed we'd think they were herbs, but any trained eye can identify a poisonous plant from a safe one." She looked back up at Edward, her eyes amused. "But from the look on your face," she added, "you didn't even realise that there was even leaves in there, did you?"

Edward's face was white now. If he had thought she was lying about the poison, he believed her now. After all, she had no reason to lie to him about there being poison in the food. But then, what reason could the old woman have to poison them?

As if on cue, a painful cramp clenched his stomach. Edward gasped as his diaphragm clenched as well, forcing the air out of his lungs. Keeling over, he clutched at his stomach. A wave of nausea swept over him, both from nerves and from the poison. His skin felt hot and then cold, and then became hot again.

"What…" he gasped.

Koudelka smiled. "If you're wondering what's going to happen to you, I'll tell you. The poison is working through your blood, killing off your organs one by one. It'll start with the smaller ones at first, inducing a paralysis that will eventually encompass your whole body. You'll be horribly sick, and you'll vomit blood once the poison pierces your stomach. In about half an hour, you won't be able to move. Not long after that, you'll lose all the feeling in your body, which will be a blessing at that point. After that… Well, your heart will just give up and die."

"You don't have to sound so… happy about it…" Edward gasped, his voice cut off by another wave of pain and nausea. He retched and clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Happy? No. Amused? Definitely." The witch laughed. "After all your whinging about how hungry you were, this is definitely a more fitting end for you than being a wolf's lunch."

"But… why?" Edward croaked. "Why would that couple want to kill us?"

"I don't know," admitted Koudelka, turning away "But one thing's for sure: they are used to doing it this way. I wonder what they could possibly be hiding that they have to kill to protect it…"

She frowned and ran her fingers over her lips, lost in thought. Behind her, Edward let out another painful gasp and dropped to his knees. Snapping out of her reverie, Koudelka turned back to him. Kneeling down, she lifted his chin with her finger. His skin was icy.

"Listen to me, Edward," she said, her tone meant as one that demanded no nonsense. "I can purge the poison from your body and I will—but only if you promise that you won't go running back to that old couple."

Seeing the protest forming, she silenced him with a finger to his lips.

"I mean it," she said. Her eyes narrowed. "I don't know what reason you have to be here, but I have a reason and I don't need you blundering about and ruining any chance I have of figuring it out." Now she gripped his chin hard between her fingers, making him gasp more from that than the pain in his belly. "Now promise me, Edward. Or I shall leave you to your fate right here."

Her words, like her grip, sent a colder chill through Edward's body than the poison ever could. He started to nod, before another wave of pain crippled him. He slumped onto the floor. His body began to convulse.

"Good."

She settled beside him and laid her hand on his forehead. His skin was cold and clammy, and she began to anticipate that she had been wrong in her calculations. He would die a lot sooner.

"Okay then, Edward," she said in a low voice, as she extended her arms in front of her. "This isn't going to be pleasant, but keep your voice down. All right, let's get to work."


End file.
